He chuckled, brushing his lips tenderly against her flushed cheek. “Good night. FYI, you sort of wore me out, too. And I love you, too.”
Scarlett had just enough energy left to give him a quick kiss before mumbling, “And thanks for - well, for all the work you did drawing up those business plans. Looks like you’re going to be stuck with me for a long time to come.”
“Dreams do come true, don’t they?”
***
The sun was just barely starting to peek over the horizon when Scarlett woke the next morning. She’d slept deeply and dreamlessly for over eight hours, she realized after glancing at the bedside clock, something that had rarely ever happened for her until meeting Jackson. She smiled sleepily as she listened to his soft snores, resisting the urge to run her hand through his messy dark hair or to press a kiss against one sculpted shoulder. Instead, she let him keep sleeping, knowing that he’d been working extra long hours these past few weeks, and somehow still finding time to work on those very detailed business plans.
She slipped out of bed silently, shivering as she dashed inside the bathroom. Once she’d closed the door quietly behind her she gratefully belted a robe around her nude body before washing up. Back in the bedroom she was as quiet as a mouse as she dressed in jeans, a thermal sweater, and thick socks before tiptoeing into the kitchen, closing the door behind her so as not to disturb Jackson.
She set a pot of coffee to brew and while waiting for it to finish, glanced once again at the business plan Jackson had reviewed with her last night. It was almost too much, she thought, too much for her to believe that something like this could actually be unfolding for her. She’d had such shitty rotten luck for most of her life that it was still hard for her to truly believe that maybe things were finally changing for the better. And even though she and Jackson had been together for more than six months now, Scarlett still wasn’t confident that something or someone - most likely herself - was going to screw it up big time.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee lured her out of her brooding. After adding her usual cream and sugar to one of the oversized mugs she favored, she took a deep, appreciative sniff before savoring her first swallow.
Jackson teased her frequently about this semi-obsession she had with coffee. It wasn’t necessarily an addiction, though she could admittedly become a cranky pain in the ass without her morning fix. No, it was more along the lines of the way she carefully prepared each cup, relished each sip, almost like it was some sort of ceremony. During her years of working for Ananda she’d learned about different types of coffee beans and growing methods, and of course how to make a wide variety of beverages. But even though she could make a perfect latte or cappuccino, knew how to foam and froth milk to just the right consistency, Scarlett always preferred just a simple mug of coffee with the precise allotment of cream and sugar added.
She peeked in at Jackson, grinning to hear his snores growing a bit louder, and decided to let him sleep awhile longer. She sat down at the built-in desk, figuring she might as well get a little work done on her thesis while waiting for him to wake up. Since the weather forecast for this late January morning called for cool but clear skies, they had planned to go for a hike on one of their favorite trails followed by a late brunch. The rest of the day and night was wide open thus far, though Scarlett privately hoped they would decide to spend it here in the apartment just hanging out and enjoying each other’s company. She’d missed him terribly these past weeks, not having seen him since that magical New Year’s getaway almost a month ago. As usual, they had talked and texted and FaceTimed on a daily basis, but it was never the same as seeing him in the flesh. She wanted, therefore, to savor every single minute she got to spend with him this weekend.
She’d barely begun on her project when there was a knock on her front door. The unexpected interruption startled her, particularly since it was a rarity for anyone but building management to come directly to her door. To protect the privacy and security of their tenants, building management required any deliveries - packages, food, even flowers - to be left at the front desk. Tenants could either choose to pick up the delivery at the front desk, or if the item was too heavy request that a building employee bring it up to them.
She knew it wasn’t a delivery, because she was neither expecting anything nor had she received a text from the front desk letting her know something had been left for her downstairs. She supposed it could be one of the maintenance staff, letting her know about some emergency repair that had to be made.
But the male she spied through the peephole sure didn’t look like a building employee, too old and too well dressed to be mistaken for a maintenance worker. Frowning, she opened the door cautiously, making sure to keep the safety chain latched.
“Can I help you?” she asked warily, taking a closer look at the man who stood on the other side of the doorway.
The man, who looked to be in his early sixties, smiled at her in a way that sent a cold chill up the back of her spine. It was a very deliberate sort of smile, she realized, one meant to intimidate and without the slightest degree of sincerity or warmth. Her uninvited visitor was several inches taller than she was, but shorter and leaner than Jackson. Even in the dead of winter the older man sported a tan, and his neatly pressed trousers, jacket, polo shirt, and leather loafers might have been discreet and conservative but still shrieked money. His silver hair was thick and expertly cut, and there was something about him - the set of his jaw, the shape of his nose, the color of his eyes - that was all too familiar.
“Hello, Miss Strohman,” he replied with more than a hint of arrogance. “Or do you mind if I call you Scarlett? After everything I’ve read about you, I feel as though I already know you.”
She knew then who this man was, and it took every ounce of bravado, every bit of courage and arrogance and fearlessness that she possessed, not to quaver even an inch in his presence. Instead, she returned his smile with an equal measure of deliberation, making it very, very clear to Barton Gilmore that he could not and would not ever intimidate her.
“Well, this is a surprise, Mr. Gilmore,” she responded while unlatching the safety chain. “A bit early in the day for visitors, and it will be fascinating to learn how you managed to get inside the building. And while I can’t claim to know a whole lot about you, I do agree it’s well past time for us to get better acquainted.”
Chapter Twenty One
Scarlett kept a careful eye on Jackson’s father as the older man gave her apartment a cursory but all encompassing inspection. She offered up silent thanks that the place was as tidy as ever, and even more so that she’d thought to replace Jackson’s business plan back inside its manila envelope, safe from any prying eyes. She reminded herself sternly not to let this man intimidate her in any way whatsoever, even while she frantically tried to calm her racing pulse.
“Nice little place you have here,” remarked Barton with a smile that was as fake as his overly pleasant tone of voice. “Is my son paying for all of this? And where is Jackson, by the way?”
She refused to react to this pointed jibe aside from arching a brow, and gave him an equally fake smile.